


A Queen's Duty

by sweetrupturedlight



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetrupturedlight/pseuds/sweetrupturedlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was not a queen's duty to wish for another life entirely. And Anne never did – not until she found the love of Aramis, a reformed rake and loyal musketeer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Queen's Duty

It was not a queen's duty to want close, abiding confidences. It was not a queen's duty to yearn for great adventures. It was not a queen's duty to long for the affection of her husband. It was not a queen's duty to want to feel desired, wanted, cherished. It was not a queen's duty to watch the lives of her servants with longing, wishing that she too had the freedoms they could so easily partake in. To live. To love. To _be_.

Anne of Austria, Queen of France knew that while there were numerous benefits to being born a royal daughter, there were just as many disadvantages. More than once in her lifetime she had wondered what it would have been like to be born outside of the pomp and ceremony of life at one of the largest royal courts in Europe. She was not ungrateful though, and thanked her Lord for all the blessings bestowed upon her.

In reality however, the greatest blessing was still withheld. After years of marriage, she had been unable to carry a child to term who would live beyond the birthing. Initially everyone told her it was normal. After barren years and two miscarriages, it was impossible not to notice the silence of others, their whispered words, their pity.

Louis was a simple man and a kind one. While he had secured her affection, he did not have her love. Over time, it became apparent that he was no more attracted to her than she was to him. Their marriage bed was a cold one, visited only with the sole purpose of trying to secure the royal lineage of their house. In latter years however, even those visits dwindled as the king too lost faith in his queen's ability to conceive and carry a healthy heir to term.

Then on a day when she attended her royal duty, she had crossed paths with a rogue, a musketeer, a man who excited her like her husband would never have been able to. Aramis had been a breath of fresh air when she had not realised all she inhaled until that moment was stale, slowly suffocating the life from her. She had noticed him and his friends in many of their meetings with the king. She had not _noticed_ him until he had saved her life, used himself as a shield, willing to forfeit his own existence to ensure her survival.

It mattered not where she was, on which day, or which circumstance. She could instantly be transported to the moment she'd felt his warm breath on her face, his dark eyes, so vigorous and full of life, promising her that everything would be alright.

It was not a queen's duty to flush like an errant schoolgirl. And yet she had when his arms had gently righted her, only letting go once her feet was steady beneath her. She had not meant to seek out his company, only to thank him for his service towards her. But it had been the beginning of an affair that had really began the moment he had publicly covered her body with his own.

It had given her a deep rooted pleasure when she would see him at court, recognising the black ribbon which occasionally peeked out from beneath his uniform. She knew it was her gift, always held close to his heart. The pleasure was always irrational in its intensity, growing stronger over months of seeing him but never uttering more than the usual pleasantries when within speaking distance. His gaze was direct, impertinent sometimes, but the warmth there, the humour, the _kindness_ appealed to her, drawing her closer to him, even when their paths had no reason to physically cross.

It was not a queen's duty to feel illicit desire, and yet she did. Over time she looked for him amongst his brethren, seeking out the handsome man with the easy smile, charming manner and agile form.

But a fantasy entertained in the deepest recesses of one's mind was very different from the reality of a man made of flesh and bone. One night when he had felt loss and she had been reminded of her own fallibility as a woman, the spark of undeniable desire had ignited and neither had been able to resist. With her life threatened by a zealot, with her knight as her protector, they had found comfort in each other.

It was not a queen's duty to love outside of her marriage. And yet she could not bring herself to beg forgiveness of her Lord. Because his touch, his fevered kisses, Aramis's passionate intensity had swept her into a rapture she had never known. Everywhere his lips had travelled, his hands had touched, his breath had kissed, she had encouraged, _craved_ more than the fear of the consequences of their actions. As she lay spent in his arms, she had known it would be a thing of great difficulty to give him up. She had not known yet that it would not be a difficulty, it would be impossible – for both of them.

Life at court became a thrill of stolen moments and whispered words of longing. When she discovered her pregnancy weeks later, she knew who the sire of her child was. She _knew_. From the moment her pregnancy was discovered, she felt that this time would be different. She had no fear, no anxiety about the fate of this child. She knew that like its father, it was strong and would fight to embrace life.

Anne had told Aramis almost immediately because she had not wanted to hide her happiness from him. They had no future as man and wife, she already belonged to another and that would not be their fate. But they had created life together, a physical manifestation of a love that had caught them both by surprise. She wanted him to know. She wanted him to be aware that _what_ and _who_ he now strove to serve and protect included their child.

In a quiet alcove of the palace gardens, she had watched his eyes round, his jaw drop, his colour heighten and then drain from his face altogether.

"Aramis?"

"A minute, Your Majesty," he had said. "I require a minute."

She had taken his hands in hers then, aware that if they were caught, it would be a hard thing to explain. But happiness made her brave. And reckless. She had not cared.

"We have created a life. I do believe, Monsieur, that you are granted permission to call me Anne."

His smile had come then after a tense moment. Like her, he had thrown caution to the winds and wrapped her into his arms. She had sighed into him, her happiness momentarily utterly complete.

"He will be raised a royal," Aramis said. His smile now dimmed as the reality set in. "A king of France."

"But he will always be _yours_. And he will be the better man, having his father so close, fighting to protect him."

"Always," he vowed. "Anne," he whispered as he cupped her face, his eyes warm. "No one can ever know. His life, yours-"

" _Your_ own," she reminded him. " _We_ will know, dear Aramis. You and I. That is enough."

Her lips met his eagerly, her body melting into the safety of his arms.

When their son was born, his life was celebrated. Banquets were hosted by nobility and royals alike, offering gifts and thanks to God for the healthy son and heir to the throne of France. It had been almost two weeks before Aramis was able to see his son.

Anne had requested an audience with the musketeer at the time when little Louis was with her. Sending her ladies from the room for a stolen moment of privacy, she had watched the love and pride light his eyes when she placed his son in his arms.

"He has your eyes," she said. "And your unruly hair I suspect," she said with loving affection.

The child was large, healthy and he kicked vigorously. "He is strong," Aramis said in awe.

"Like his father."

Gently, he placed a soft kiss to her lips before reluctantly handing the baby back to his queen.

"Accept my congratulations, Your Majesty." The words were no longer formal. Between them, it was an endearment, a term of love.

Two years later, they shared a similar moment when their second son, Prince Philippe I, Duke of Orléans, was presented to his true father.

It was not a queen's duty to wish for another life entirely. And Anne never did – not until she found the love of Aramis, a reformed rake and loyal musketeer. They would never be able to share a life, but the moments they managed to steal, the precious time they managed to cleave for themselves would be enough to sustain a love that lasted all their lives.

A love that lived on silently in their unclaimed sons.


End file.
